WHINLATTER

Today dawned dark.  That sounds like a contradiction in terms as dawn is necessarily when light starts appearing: but I'm sure you'll understand what I mean.  There are days when it just isn't as light as it was the day before at the same time and of course it's usually because the weather isn't that great.

Driving back from dropping the children at school I could see a band of what looked like rain clouds, just over Scotland to the north: sitting in Jacobites (where I treated myself to a cappuccino and a bacon sandwich: then, because I was engrossed in my current book, a second cappuccino which was a big mistake as I felt very sick when I got home) the greyness didn't lift but neither did the rain arrive.  It's windy though, so I'm sure some sort of change is on the way.

It's such a stark contrast to yesterday, when all the radio presenters were talking about an Indian summer and about the glorious weather we had lasting until the weekend.  There's a lovely-sounding walk in aid of Macmillan Cancer care on Saturday at Grasmere/Rydal Water so I hope it's glorious sunny weather again for them.  Getting back to the car after our walk it was 19.5C!

I met up with Friend L.-who-I-used-to-work-with (henceforth to be called Friend L. or Friend L. and dogs) and one of her dogs, Ruby, for a walk.  We met at Spout Force Walk car park and headed up into Whinlatter.  The sun shone down, the sky was a wonderful bright autumnal blue and before long we were carrying our coats and still warm in tee-shirts and tops, looking cool in sunglasses (what is it about sunglasses that makes a person look cool?  Is it the enigmatic way they hide your eyes?  However I did see a guy in sunglasses in the middle of Carlisle on quite a dull day last week and he didn't look cool or enigmatic but just rather silly, as if he was trying too hard).

We walked for about 3 and a half hours: we had intended to go up to Lord's Seat and back, a circular route: unfortunately I hadn't anticipated how slow I would be going up hills, and whilst none of the hills is particularly big this was definitely an undulating walk.  It will be a fantastic run once I'm back to running, as it's mostly on forest trails and tracks and the scenery changes from valleys with little hillside streams and minature waterfalls to open areas where the Forestry Commission has been logging, to narrower tracks running through heather.  At one point spiders had been busy knitting the most intricate multi-layered cobwebs on to the heather bushes (I wish I'd taken a photo now): not just any old flat, almost 2-dimensional cobweb, but three-dimensional ones with depth as well as breadth.

We didn't quite get as far as seeing Bassenthwaite (my favourite of all the lakes, I think: at least the one in which I most want to swim) but we could see over to Skiddaw, with tiny delicate clouds hovering around its top.  Unfortunately by this point we were running out of time to get back, have lunch and then for me to fetch the children from school, so we took a few photos and then retraced our steps to the cars.  I had had a meeting with a guy about teaching aerobics the day before: who am I trying to kid?!  Especially as my aerobics routine is pretty energetic.  Funny how you miss different things with different pregnancies: when I was pregnant with Son No.1 I wanted to be able to wear jeans again: with Daughter I wanted a gin and tonic: this time I'm really keen to get back into running, aerobics and so forth.  I miss being able to run on the trails and up the hills and hate feeling slow and, at times, a bit breathless: it seems so abnormal.  Husband said it would make me appreciate how asthmatics feel: and it's made me sympathise with London & Northumberland-Friend C's Husband who is now on oxygen and even so still walks really slowly.  It's so good to be able to run whenever you want to, and to jump around for joy and so hideous when your body seems to be rebelling against you.  My slowness and occasional breathlessness is minor and transient: it must be terrible to have it growing worse and worse and to know that it's never going to go away.

Friend L. took a photo of me which I really like, and so will include here, but as it's from the front rather than a side view you can't tell quite how pregnant I am.  The scenery had opened out by this point, getting on for the top: and spot the bright pink Oakleys which Husband bought for me for my birthday last year.  I'm carrying a notebook as I was going to make notes of the route and write it up, but I was enjoying walking and chatting too much to do so.

Friend L, Ruby-the-dog and I then went to the Whinlatter Visitor Centre for lunch.  What's good is that you can pay by the hour in their car park whereas at Grizedale you pay for a half day or a whole day: a real pain if you don't have either the right money or enough change.  We agreed, as we sat out on the balcony in the sun skiing-holiday-style, that Siskins cafe at Whinlatter is reasonably priced for the quality and quantity of food you get.  There isn't a huge menu as it's nearly all sandwiches and soup (and cake) but what you get is good.  I still felt full when I went out yesterday evening, though it's not difficult to feel full at the moment with a baby taking up a large proportion of my stomach as well.

Driving home the A66 was closed and it wasn't totally clear why: just as I got on to it two Chinook military helicopters flew overhead quite low, which was a little alarming: I'm not sure whether it was anything to do with the road closure or not, which Friend L. later told me was due to an accident between a car and a motorbike.  I hope everyone was OK.  It meant I was 10 minutes late picking the children up from school, but fortunately that didn't seem to have bothered them.

Talking of school I have to brag a bit.  Son had his reading age assessed at the beginning of term and has shot up from 6.3 to 9.3.  I think the teachers were surprised: I knew he was reading really well but to hear it 'in black and white' like that, as it were, was stunning, and I feel very, very proud of him.  Apparently his numeracy is good too, which is a relief as at home sometimes it's quite a battle to get him to do his times tables and so forth.  He seems however to have grown up a bit this term and whilst he complained that it was all work and no play this year initially, I think it's actually doing him good.  It can be quite funny how he tries to reason with Daughter at times and to be rational when she's at her most emotional and irrational.

Having seen Son's form teachers I then had a chat with Daughter's, whose first comment was 'she's a little darling'.  Is she talking about the same child?!  Yes, of course she is: Daughter is adorable and charming and fortunately saves her paddies and bad temper for home.

Having been out in the fresh air much of the day yesterday, I then went out to Tullie House in the evening for a talk entitled 'A Walk through the Axis of Evil'.  The middle eastern meal prior to the talk was not, I'm afraid to say, worth the £8.50 we each had to pay for it: but the talk was worth every penny of the £8 that cost.  John Pilkington showed us photos of historic buildings, innovative ways of irrigation, and stunning scenery from mountains to a desert which was, as he said, 'just how a desert should be'.  He did a lot to dispel the myths of the middle east being a hotbed of violence and fighting and anti-western feeling: although having said that he steered clear of the southern regions of Iraq such as Basra and Baghdad, understandably.  The talk and questions must have lasted about two hours but it passed all too quickly and was fascinating.  He mentioned that he wants to go back before long and to go to Afghanistan as well, and having recently read a book about Afghanistan, I shall look forward to Tullie House's booking him up to talk about that (but will avoid any food!).

I rolled home far later than I had anticipated and then spent some quality time chatting with Husband.  As a result I'm a little tired today, but yesterday was a lovely day and the slight amount of tiredness I feel is a small price to pay.